In the Eyes of Dominique Weasley
by InsanelyGrounded
Summary: James and I were falling so hard that we didn't even realize we were bruised and bleeding. We were falling apart. We were combusting. Was there anyone in the world who could save us?


We were walking into the Great Hall when he told me. Well he had told me multiple times but my groggy mind was reluctant to grasp it. The words I mean. I pulled my hair against my nose when the smell of bacon and eggs threatened to bring my churning stomach over the edge. The fresh smell of my red-blond hair soothed me. A little. My head was throbbing and I was sure that James wasn't feeling any less hangoverish. So why was he so full of energy?

"Trust me, Dommie, you'll love me," he had said giving up on trying to explain what he had accomplished. Frankly I couldn't care less at the moment.

I shrugged. "If you're so sure."

James grinned plopping down on the Gryffindor bench. His eyes landed on the platters upon platters of food and his face dropped about a mile, turning a sickly green at the same time. He must have just remembered his hangover. It was hilarious really to watch him.

With my hair still pulled over my nose I took a swig of pumpkin juice and a bite of toast. My stomach churned violently so I put my head on the sturdy table so as to block everything out.

"You would think they would realize we're piss drunk in their classes at least twice a week."

The "they" he was referring to mostly meant the Professors sometimes the family. Neither do much about it though, so they're no different.

I shrugged again. "James?"

"Hm."

"Stop talking to me." I could sense more than hear him chuckling as he stood up, grabbing a piece of toast and walking away.

Good.

He always seemed clingy when I was on a hangover.

Suddenly someone was tapping me on the shoulder. I put my best "pissed-veela" look before lifting my head off the table. There in front of me was a fellow Weasley relative. We were bloody everywhere, we were. Rose. She was cool—if you considered pestering and a little over-bearing cool.

That was a bit harsh, but I wasn't in a good mood that morning, as you have probably already noticed.

"Yeah?" I prompted. Didn't my cousin realize that I place's to be, people to see. My forehead was yearning to meet the wooden table again. It was a really cute love story actually. The crazy forehead couldn't control anything in her life and the stable table (I'm a poet and I didn't even know it) was always there for the forehead. They didn't like separation well.

Rose sat down next to me so fast that I was suddenly transported into a spinning world. Which you know was horrible for my current condition.

"I was wondering since, you know, you're practically McGonagall's protégé if you could convince her to let us have a Christmas soiree next year."

"Why?" My voice was low and scratchy. Firewhisky.

"Because the Head Boy and Girl wouldn't do it for us this year. They were right prudes, Dom."

"I'm not a prefect , Rose." She was always trying to get me to do things for her because I was on the Headmistresses nice list. I know, I know; I drink, I do drugs, I sleep around a bit. How in Merlin's saggy left testicle (oh and I have crude language Ha) did I get on her nice list? I guess the same way James got on Professor Flitwicks. We were brilliant.

Suddenly I was struck with the answer for James inquiry. Having discovered the answer I was suddenly thrown into a good mood. I know, right?

"Tell you what, Rosie. I'll go ask Lysander if you become Head Girl next year or not. If you do, you can talk to McGonagall yourself next year. If you don't make Head girl I'll talk to her . . . eventually."

Rose squealed, jumping up and down on the bench. I felt as though I was a can of soda that someone was shaking up. If I opened my mouth I would explode.

"Oh! Our seventh year is going to be marvelous, Dom!"

I couldn't help it. I grinned. My cousin was so innocent. She continued to thank me for about forever and a day until she finally decided to skip off. If I didn't have James, Rose would be enough entertainment. Good thing I had James.

I dropped my head; forehead once again reunited with the forgiving surface that was wood. Oh the romance.

O.0.O.0.O

Finding Lysander was always harder than one would origionally think. It was as if he could become invisible at will. He wasn't elusive like most people You could always spot his curly hair just above the heads of the students infront of you but then poof! Just . . . poof! He disappears.

Its exhausting.

What was worse, we had classes together. Well it was _a_ class. Divination. He hated that class though, so he showed up five minutes late and walked out a minute or two before the bell rang every day. Even I couldn't get away with that.

But of course he did, he was a Seer.

Trelawny (yes, the old bat was still alive) is afraid of him I think. Rightly so, since she's a fraud. She lets him do whatever he pleased. He could probably skip the class the entire year and continue to stack up the O's.

He was probably the best type of Seer out there. 1) he wasn't a fraud, 2) the visions didn't jump up on him or surprise him, and 3) he was a choice seer. He could have a vision with his own free will He could control what his vision was about. It was brilliant.

You can probably see why I needed this particular Scammander twin.

You are probably wondering, though, why a girl like me would be taking such a class as Divination. Well the answer is simple.

The smoke and fumes in that room could hide just about anything. Anything, as in the smoke of a fag.

Oh, and Mamman thought it had a nice ring to it; "Dominique the Divination Dominator". I have to say the ring is nice.

But anyway, Trelany also seemed pretty excited when I pulled out my first cigarette in her class back in fourth year. I practically fell off my stool when she pounced on me rambling off about "seeing" me "seeing" things in the future. I guess these nicotine products were pretty popular in the crystal ball business. I should get one of those long pipes and just puff, puff all day long.

Fun.

Back to Lysander.

So we're in Divination class and Lysander is on the other side of the room. He was staring intently into the crystal ball on the table. That, or he was committing every detail of the lone fly, that had landed _on_ his crystal ball, to memory, so he could report to his, erm, eccentric mum and dad. I on the other hand was I was taking drag after drag on my solitary fag. Oh, how I lived through the day. Instead of staring intently into my crystal ball (or fly) I was watching Lysander's every move.

How was I going to talk to him? Especially if he leaved early again? He would just disappear again before the bell even rang.

Before I could concoct a battle plan, he stands up. Ah, shit.

I stand up as he's closing the trap door behind him. Making sure my cigarette was in plain view (bonus points, you know?) I said, "Proffessor, I had a dream where I followed Lysander. I gotta go . . . fulfill the prophecy."

"Oh, of course dear! Go!"

Wow, that worked? Ha.

I wasn't the only one surprised either; there were a few of my fellow students staring at me mouth Jaw dropped and envious. Some were falling off their stools with laughter. Hells yeah. I'm pretty amazing in the improv category.

I raced down the ladder. "Lysander! Bloody stop disappearing, you nutter!" I screamed. I loved screaming.

I began running until I saw a flash of blond curls disappear behind a tapestry. I pulled back the tapestry and jumped about a mile (successfully hitting my head on the corridor ceiling). Lysander was standing there, staring as though he had been waiting for me.

"Aw, look what you made me do."

"What? Pee your pants?" he grinned. Stupid Slytherin.

"No. I dropped faggie," I said looking down at the fag disdainfully. I was contemplating picking it up. Did the ten second rule apply to cigarettes?

Well it didn't much matter, seeing as Lysander stepped on it a moment later. Damn.

"I hate you smoking. The answer is 'yes' by the way." He turned on his heel and continued his quest to . . . where ever he was questing to.

I sighed exasperatedly. This kid.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. 'Yes' to what?"

He gave me his signature don't-be-daft look.

"Never mind. You had a vision."

"Why isn't it ever 'you read my mind'?"

"Um," I stuttered. "Because you having a vision is the truth. " I giggled a little. Dominique Weasley does not giggle.

"It's a truth that has become unoriginal." He almost sounded sad as he stared off into space. He reminded me of his mother all the time. While his twin Lorcan, was more like Rolf Scamander, Lysander was an exact replica of Luna Lovegood-Scamander (in male form, or course). Which by the way was a good thing. Their mum was a hoot. She definitely knew how to entertain James and I. When we were especially bored, during the summer holidays we would come and visit and just listen to her blabber on about the Crumple-horned Snorckhack.

"Well, see you, Dommie," he said patting my cheek gently.

Only James called me that but I guess Lysander was cool enough to get away with it ever once and a while.

O.0.O.0.O

I woke up Saturday morning super early. The ungodly hour of seven. Yeah, in the morning.

It would be okay though, I told myself. James was taking me to France today. I'll shop till I drop and he'll encourage it. He's letting me use his money since my allowance was cancelled since our last rendezvous to France.

He was only doing it for the French girls, the selfish git.

But I was getting clothes out of it.

It cancelled out.

I stood in front of the mirror in the sixth year's bathroom. My hair was a little messy but I decided that I liked the bed head. I pumped it up a bit more, pursing my lips at the mirror. Laughing at myself I smudged on some eyeliner and a hint of purple lipstick. My favorite purple lipstick I might add.

I pulled on some clothes but I didn't much care what I was putting on so I couldn't tell you.

I grabbed my wand and tucked it behind my ear, something I had picked up from that hoot of a mom Luna Scamander.

Sometimes I find myself wishing that the stairs to the girl's dormitories in the Gryffindor Common room were slides twenty-four/seven. Walking could be terribly boring. But sliding? Now that's something to look forward to now isn't it? Then it was up yet another spiral staircase up to the boy's dormitory.

I opened the door to what looked like an after math of a nuclear explosion (not that I know what that is. I'm a witch.). Clothes were strewn across the floor in smelly heaps along with moldy bread and lumpy fruits and discarded Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. Yum.

Honestly, was it so hard to pick up something every once and a while?

I reluctantly stepped into the room. I really wanted those clothes, you see. Somehow I managed to reach James' bed. I flicked his ear, making him jump up, snorting like a pig.

"Whosa there?" he slurred. He had one of those morning voices that smokers got, as if he had a cold. He didn't smoke as much as I did though because he was on the quidditch team so he likes to keep his lungs somewhat healthy. "Dommie!" he grinned, successfully managing to wake up the entire dormitory.

Yay.

Freddie was the first to react. He didn't like me much, he didn't like James either. We were too different, I suppose. He nodded in my direction before scuffling along into the bathroom. Liam Wood came next.

"Hey, love."

Oh yeah we had a fling (and when I say fling, I mean it in the loosest way possible) at the beginning of the year. He was a good kisser. I gave him a wave, before turning on James so no one else would jump in.

"You're taking me to France, remember? Get up."

He jumped out of bed. "France!" he made it sound like a battle cry. Liam came up and put his arm around my shoulder as James ran to the bathroom door.

"France, huh?" he asked.

I looked up at him and grinned smugly.

"Freddie! Get out!" James yelled banging on the door.

"I'm taking a piss!" came through the door.

I sighed. At this rate, she would never get to France.


End file.
